


every song i've ever loved

by viscrael



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, kei thinkin hes being subtle when hes rlly Rlly not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscrael/pseuds/viscrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima liked music.</p>
<p>That always seemed to be the thing that surprised people. Someone so indifferent, someone so calm and detached, liking something that thrived off emotion, something built entirely around self-expression and complex feelings?</p>
<p>Tadashi didn’t find that all that surprising. Tsukki showed a lot more emotion than others seemed to think he did. They just weren’t looking hard enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every song i've ever loved

**Author's Note:**

> ITS 1 AM ON A SCHOOL NIGHT THIS UNEDITED AF I JUST WANTED MORE TSUKKIYAMA FLUFF SO TAKE IT

Tadashi’s first experience with music was at church.

His family wasn’t particularly religious. They didn’t pray; they had no crosses hanging in their house, no Bibles lined up neatly in the bookshelves. But his mother made an effort when he was young to get him involved in religion. They only went a few times, but the memory was vivid, burned in his eight-year-old mind: the pews, dark wood and smooth and uncomfortable to sit up in; little hymn books placed in each seat, to follow along with; and the windows, glass and beautiful and shattered.

And the singing.

The voices around him; his father’s lips moving almost unnoticeably, voice too quiet to be heard over the rest; the Latin words, foreign and untangible on his juvenile tongue. He couldn’t pronounce anything correctly, even as he read along with them.

But the songs stuck in his head even as they were driving home. He sat in the backseat alone and hummed to himself, leftover memory of the melody they had played.

If nothing else, Tadashi could say he’d liked the music.

 

\--

 

When Tadashi and Tsukishima were in their last year of elementary school, their class put on a play.

It was good—as good as any school-funded production could be, really. The other kids weren’t that interested in it, but it got them out of class early to go to practice, and the teacher seemed adamant about finishing the production in time for the end of the year. It seemed to Tadashi that he was the only one genuinely excited to perform, so he kept that information to himself. Tsukki had thought it okay, indifferent on the topic, and Tadashi had dropped it after that.

He wasn’t a very good singer, he was aware, but it was sort of fun anyway.

 

\--

 

“What are you listening to?”

It was like this, some days, when Tsukki and Tadashi were walking to or from school. Tsukki would have one earbud in, iPod playing, with the other one dangling impatiently as they talked. It was for Tadashi’s sake, he knew, that he bothered taking one earbud out at all. He felt odd, making his friend give up listening for their idle chattering, so if there was a lull in conversation, that was what he often went with: _what are you listening to_?

Tsukki shrugged. “Nothing.”

Sometimes he would answer for real, a band he’d just gotten into or a song he’d been playing over and over too much. But sometimes he wouldn’t.

Tadashi nodded. “Oh.”

And other times, Tsukki would glance at him from the corner of his eye, and Tadashi would act as if he hadn’t seen it, and Tsukki would hold out the free earbud in invitation and say, “Here.”

Tadashi would take it gratefully, letting himself smile, and they would walk the rest of the way huddled together as music played.

Sometimes Tsukishima would talk about the band quietly, mumbling over the music—the lead singer was kind of an asshole, but their sound was okay, or he’d complain about how people didn’t listen to their album anymore because it came out a few years ago, despite being the artist’s best by far.

And sometimes he said nothing at all, and they walked with arms brushing while the song came to a close and a new one played.

 

\--

 

“You still listen to them?”

The question, directed at the song playing from Tsukki’s laptop, came from said boy, sitting in his desk chair in his room, Tadashi resting cross-legged on the floor in front of the bed. Both had been studying for an upcoming test, and they’d put on a playlist to help keep focus. Tadashi didn’t really need it, but Tsukki did, so he never said anything against it.

“Yeah,” Tadashi answered, setting his pencil down next to his papers and stretching. They’d been working for an hour or two; he was getting tired. “Do you?”

“A little.”

“They’re good,” he said around a yawn. “Their new album is out, right?”

“Right.” The other boy nodded, then turned around in his chair. “You like them?”

“Sure.”

“They’re playing live in town in a few months,” Tsukki said, and Tadashi politely didn’t comment on how hard he tried to sound casual.

“I didn’t know that.”

“…Yeah.”

Tadashi smiled, but the other wasn’t looking at him. “You want to go?”

“Do you?”

“I will if you will.”

Tsukki paused, and after a moment, shrugged. “…Sure.”

He was like that sometimes, too stubborn to admit when he was excited about something. It was a good thing Tadashi could always tell.

 

\--

 

(The concert was the most fun Tadashi had had in a while. His ears rang and his throat was sore afterwards, but he caught Tsukki smiling and mouthing along with the singer on stage, so he couldn’t say he regretted going.)

 

\--

 

As they got older, girls started noticing Tsukishima.

And why wouldn’t they? He was tall, attractive, and had brains to match. Most of the girls didn’t know him well enough to realize that he wasn’t always the most sensitive of person. If they watched from afar, there was nothing to judge him on but his looks and his grades.

He didn’t get confessed to often, which was probably a good thing. He wouldn’t have been the most tactful when turning someone down, and so the lack of courageous suitors kept him from breaking too many hearts.

But there were still some who _were_ courageous. And with their confession, they often needed to know what Tsukishima liked—for gift ideas, or for conversation starters, maybe. The only issue was that Tsukishima was as quiet about what he liked as he was loud about what he didn’t.

Because of this, it could be difficult to get gifts for him. What sort of a present would someone who doesn’t like anything even want? The girls began coming to Tadashi for advice; he was Tsukki’s best friend, and the only person the blonde ever seemed to _want_ to be around, so it made sense to ask him.

Tsukishima likes books, is what he often said. Tsukishima likes music, is what he didn’t. Tsukishima likes sleeping in late and getting off from school. Tsukishima likes cherry cokes. Tsukishima likes strawberry cake. Tsukishima likes a million things he would never tell anyone.

It felt invasive, somehow, for Tadashi to tell these girls what Tsukki _liked_. They hadn’t earned that information themselves; they’d only tried to get it out of someone who had. So he always gave a half-hearted answer: a polite smile, a shrug, _I don’t know_ , and when pressed, _he likes reading_. That was as far as he was going to go.

 

\--

 

But Tsukishima liked music.

That always seemed to be the thing that surprised people. Someone so indifferent, someone so calm and detached, liking something that thrived off emotion, something built entirely around self-expression and complex feelings?

Tadashi didn’t find that all that surprising. Tsukki showed a lot more emotion than others seemed to think he did. They just weren’t looking hard enough.

 

\--

 

On Tadashi’s seventeenth birthday, Tsukki pressed a package into his hands the moment he stepped across the threshold of the Yamaguchis' house.

“Your present,” he’d said, at the look that Tadashi was giving him. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose—habit. “But don’t open it until we get in your room.”

Tadashi swallowed the question _why?_ and replaced it with a smile and a nod. The words Tsukki had been too scared to say floated in the air around them as they walked up the stairs, _I want us to be alone when you open it_. Tadashi smiled at the thought, and closed the door to his bedroom behind them as they entered.

“I can open it now?” He crossed the room to sit on his bed and patted the spot next to him. Tsukki sat, arms crossed, and nodded.

The wrapping paper was red and blue, and he smiled as he tore through it. Tsukki wasn’t the best at wrapping, but he thought it looked good anyway.

Underneath the paper was a CD album, the cover blank with nothing but _T_ written on it for his name. He blinked and ran his hands over it the surface, flipping it around to see if the back had anything on it.

“You made me a playlist,” he finally said.

Tsukki shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Listen to it when I’m not here.”

Tadashi clutched the album a little harder, and nodded. “I will.”

 

\--

 

He did.

There were twelve songs on the playlist, almost all of them a different genre. A few he recognized from bands that Tsukki had introduce him too, but most were completely new, unspecific titles that told him nothing about the contents of the songs. He listened to the playlist as he finished homework that night, but he wasn’t able to concentrate, not when he could finally sit down and listen to the lyrics.

Most of them were love songs.

He’d been confused at first—but it dawned on him, eventually, slowly.

And he smiled.

 

\--

 

The next day on their walk to school, he slid his hand into Tsukki’s.

**Author's Note:**

> tsukkis so lucky to have tadashi tbh i lov them


End file.
